


Bicycle

by malamyszk



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, But Also This Is Soft, Canon Compliant, Face Slapping, Geonhak Gets Thoroughly Fucked Y'all, Hook-Up, M/M, Minor Sadism, Mirror Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Semi-Public Sex, That's it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:29:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29892888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malamyszk/pseuds/malamyszk
Summary: "His eyes are a little hooded, mouth dropped open, and when the lyrics hit: I ride it, I ride it, you like it when I ride it, Geonhak gives everything he has, body begging, please please let me ride you, let me ride anyone, I don’t care."Or: Geonhak really, really wants to get fucked. Hwanwoong is happy to help him out.
Relationships: Kim Geonhak | Leedo/Yeo Hwanwoong, Referenced Kim Geonhak/Kim Youngjo
Comments: 6
Kudos: 65





	Bicycle

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by Hwanwoong covering Bicycle, which you can watch [HERE](https://twitter.com/official_ONEUS/status/1363409756128382978).
> 
> The other referenced dance is HwanHak's cover of "My Ear's Candy" which you can watch [HERE](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MvXtuYGIdiU).
> 
> This fic is very kinky. They do not discuss these kinks. In a perfect world, you discuss things with your partner beforehand. This is not perfect. But they have a good time, and it's all safe and consensual so here we go.

“What did you think?” Hwanwoong asks, bending down with his hands on his knees as Geonhak stops the recording. “Uploadable?”

This is their third take of Hwanwoong dancing to Bicycle, and while Hwanwoong is an amazing dancer, hitting all of the moves he needs to with precision and grace, there’s still something off. Geonhak shrugs and Hwanwoong groans.

“What is it now?”

“It’s fine,” Geonhak says, replaying the video and watching Hwanwoong move. The angle, despite the intent to make Hwanwoong seem taller, actually makes him look shorter, and his fluffy hair and lack of makeup makes him look like a teenager in the video. “You’re just really cute.”

Hwanwoong huffs out a sigh and Geonhak knows without looking that he’s rolling his eyes. “I always look cute,” he says, though he doesn’t sound happy about it.

“No,” Geonhak says, stopping the video and going back into record mode. “I mean...this is a sexy song. You love sexy songs. But you’re not being sexy.”

“Yes, I am,” Hwanwoong says, but there’s something in his voice, like he doesn’t really believe what he’s saying. Geonhak shakes his head.

“No, you’re not.”

“I am so!”

Geonahk groans and pushes himself up to standing. His body aches from sitting on the hard floor for so long after practicing the dance with Hwanwoong and then not stretching afterwards. His muscles are tight and knotted, and he stretches his arms over his head.

“Do you even know what the song is about?” he asks, and Hwanwoong sputters. If Geonhak didn’t know that Hwanwoong wasn’t a virgin, he’d assume he was one based on that reaction. “It’s literally about sex.”

“I know,” Hwanwoong says through his teeth. Geonhak raises an eyebrow, not understanding what Hwanwoong is getting so worked up about. It doesn’t make sense; he’s all about sex appeal and explicit songs. He loves any chance he gets to shake his ass and roll his hips and look at someone with bedroom eyes. 

“So why are you dancing like you think this is actually a song about riding a bike?”

Hwanwoong makes a frustrated sound. “Because I don’t want people to get the wrong idea.”

“What wrong idea?” Hwanwoong glares at him but Geonhak shrugs. “Seriously, what wrong idea? You dance to shit like this all the time. If anyone’s going to make an assumption about you shaking your butt on camera they’ve already done it.”

“That’s not—” Hwanwoong huffs. “When _she_ dances to those lyrics, it’s powerful! It’s about taking control and embracing your sexuality and that’s fucking hot.” Hwanwoong runs a hand through his pink hair and it immediately flops back into his face. He huffs and places his hands on his hips instead, leveling Geonhak with an angry stare. “When I do it I just look like a cute twink who wants a cock up his ass.”

“Well,” Geonhak says, “you are a cute twink who wants a cock up his ass.”

He’s aiming for lighthearted, anything to get Hwanwoong to stop talking about sex in an open hallway where anyone could overhear them, but no such luck. Hwanwoong’s eyes narrow, and when he laughs it’s short and bitter. 

“Wow,” he says. His tongue darts out along his bottom lip and Geonhak hates how he notices, hates how unbelievably hot he thinks Hwanwoong looks when he’s pissed off.

“I was joking.”

“You weren’t,” Hwanwoong says. “You know how I know you weren’t?”

“I was,” Geonhak says, but his words are weak because Hwanwoong marches up to him, walking him backwards until Geonhak’s back hits the wall. He only comes up to Geonhak’s shoulder, but with his eyebrows slanted and fury in his eyes Geonhak feels about a centimeter tall. It makes him feel loose limbed, joints like jelly.

“You weren’t,” Hwanwoong says, voice tight and just loud enough for Geonhak to hear him, “because you always grab shit for me even though I can reach it just fine on my own. You and Youngjo both. You drive me fuckin’ nuts.”

“That’s just being polite.”

“It’s not,” Hwanwoong snarls. “It’s you thinking I’m a cute little damsel. Some pathetic little thing for you to take care of.”

“Where—where the hell are you getting that? You’re short, Woong! I won’t grab mugs for you anymore, jesus.”

“It’s not about me being short,” Hwanwoong hisses, jabbing a finger into Geonhak’s sternum. His nails are long, probably forgot to cut them again, and the sting of it digging into Geonhak’s skin makes him squirm. “This is about you thinking I’m the cute little boy for you to dick down.”

“I never said that!”

“Yes you did!”

And Geonhak knows, suddenly, exactly what Hwanwoong is talking about.

The practice room, running through My Ear’s Candy for the millionth time, Geonhak almost dropping Hwanwoong on the lift, suddenly having to grip tight around his waist and ass. T-shirts clinging to their bodies with sweat, breathing heavy, Hwanwoong’s eyes tired but so impossibly dark. Hwanwoong wrapping his arms around Geonhak’s neck as he’s lowered down, crotch dragging along Geonhak’s hip. Hwanwoong’s hands in his hair, tongue in his mouth, hips rocking together—not quite lining up, but lining up enough for them to get _something_ out of it. 

Geonhak whispering _you’re so pretty_ in Hwanwoong’s ear and Hwanwoong making this noise that he’d never heard before, prompting Geonhak to run his mouth even more with things that sounded like something he should say, that Hwanwoong would like: _so cute_ and _gonna ruin you_ and _drive me crazy_. 

Hwanwoong had pulled away after that. Geonhak had thought it was just exhaustion and his common sense kicking in, but now he isn’t so sure. Hwanwoong smacks his hands flat against Geonhak’s chest and sighs. 

“I’m so tired of being fucking cute,” he mumbles. “I’m tired of big beef-heads telling me all the things they’re gonna do to me.”

“I’m sorry,” Geonhak says, ignoring the jab of Hwanwoong calling him a beef-head because, yeah, he probably deserves it. “When I said that. I was just, just talking. Saying what I thought you’d like.”

“Well I don’t like, so.”

“You liked it when I called you pretty.” Hwanwoong looks up at him, a crease between his eyebrows and mouth in a hard line. His cheeks look a little pink though, pink beyond the exertion of dancing and the slight glow he gets from his bright hair. Hwanwoong darts his eyes down the hallway, and again Geonhak is reminded that they’re in a company building, in an area with no doors and no places to hide.

“Pretty is fine,” Hwanwoong mumbles. “Nobody ever calls me pretty.”

“That’s a lie—”

“No, it’s not. They call Dongju pretty. They call Youngjo pretty. They call me _cute_.”

“So...you decided to be cute in this dance video?” 

Hwanwoong rolls his eyes at him but he doesn’t say anything. Geonhak lifts his hands to rest them on Hwanwoong’s waist, but then decides against it and lets them drop. Hwanwoong must notice, because he scoffs and pulls away.

“It wasn’t that cute,” he finally says. 

“It kind of was,” Geonhak says, a gentle tease in his tone, testing the waters. Hwanwoong rolls his eyes again, but he doesn’t seem like he’s going to yell at him again. Instead he plops down on the floor next to the mini tripod and cellphone set-up they have and gestures to the small space in front of the black curtains.

“Show me how it’s done, then,” Hwanwoong says. “Since you have so many opinions.”

Hwanwoong gets like this sometimes when they choreograph together. For the most part they work rather seamlessly, a partnership that comes mostly from Geonhak letting Hwanwoong lead because he is the stronger dancer between the two of them. But every so often they clash, and when they do Hwanwoong inevitably concedes the floor, like a judge allowing Geonhak to plead his case with his dance moves. 

“Fine,” Geonhak says. “Start the music.”

He positions himself in front of Hwanwoong, ignoring the way his stomach flips because of the narrow-eyed focus Hwanwoong has on him. He knows what Hwanwoong wants to see, knows that Hwanwoong wants to point out the macho-aggressive moves that Geonhak has perfected over the years, that he can get away with without any effort just because of the way his body is built. He wants to be able to look at Geonhak and say “see, it’s easier for you because you look the way you do.”

The thing is, Geonhak _is_ that twinky guy who desperately wants a cock up his ass, he just never admits it. Maybe if he wasn’t in an idol group he’d be more...open about it—who is he kidding, no he wouldn’t because he’s too shy to even talk to people he doesn’t know. But just like Hwanwoong has a desperate urge to be sexy, to be looked at like he’s larger than life, sometimes Geonhak desperately wants to be cute—not like “do aegyo” cute, but just...soft.

The chorus of the song starts and Geonhak moves, pushing all of his insecurities to the back of his mind. This is easier: dancing. It’s a performance, something that he can separate himself from even though deep down he hopes Hwanwoong gets what he’s trying to say. Running his hands over his chest, rolling his hips, throwing his head back, it’s not him doing it, it’s some other version of him. Setting: gay club, Character: cute boy who wants to get fucked within an inch of his life. Target: best friend.

And maybe it’s working because Hwanwoong isn’t watching him like he normally does when Geonhak dances, all calculating stares and lips moving with counts and lyrics, nodding when Geonhak hits something well and scrunching his nose when he doesn’t. Hwanwoong is looking at him like...well, like he’s just taking in the show of some guy dancing in the club. His eyes are a little hooded, mouth dropped open, and when the lyrics hit _I ride it, I ride it, you like it when I ride it,_ Geonhak gives everything he has, body begging, _please please let me ride you, let me ride anyone, I don’t care._

He drops onto his knees and crawls into Hwanwoong’s lap, the open hallway forgotten, everything forgotten except for Hwanwoong’s dark eyes and pink lips and small hands on Geonhak’s hips. Geonhak rests his arms over Hwanwoong’s shoulders and grinds in Hwanwoong’s lap, Chungha still singing about how she likes it, and the air is suddenly too hot and thick in the back of Geonhak’s throat. He leans in dragging his lips along Hwanwoong’s jaw until he bumps his ear.

“Want you to take me,” he whispers, voice trembling slightly. It’s what he wanted to say in the practice room, what wanted to say the first time they danced together and Hwanwoong had playfully shoved him to the ground. He’s been holding back from saying it for years, but now that he’s said it he can’t seem to stop himself. “Want you to ruin me. Take me apart and—”

Hwanwoong grips his hips hard and shoves, not hard enough to push Geonhak off, but hard enough for him to get the message that Hwanwoong wants him to stop. He sits back on his heels, shame burning his cheeks a flaming red, and he stares down at the ground. He hears Hwanwoong breathing, heavy, open-mouthed, but he can’t bear to look up at him. Can’t bear it if Hwanwoong looks disappointed or disgusted.

“You should get up,” Hwanwoong says at last, his voice tight, and Geonhak nods. The shame burns hotter now, all the way down his throat to his stomach, searing and acidic. He pushes himself off of Hwanwoong’s lap and stands, running his shaking hands through his hair. He was an idiot, an absolute idiot. Why did he think it was a good idea, coming onto his bandmate like that? What was wrong with him?

He doesn’t help Hwanwoong pack up the tripod and cellphone; he doesn’t need to, and after everything it isn’t worth him fumbling around just to try to make things feel normal. He jumps when he feels a small hand press against his, though he laces their fingers together automatically, as if by habit. Hwanwoong squeezes his hand and Geonhak squeezes back. He lets himself get dragged along down the hallway, and when they pass two staff members Geonhak’s face burns bright red as he bows. 

Hwanwoong doesn’t let go of his hand even when they step into the elevator. The doors close but Hwanwoong doesn’t press the button to go down to the lobby.

“Did you mean it?” he asks, voice loud in the enclosed space. “All that shit you said? Or were you just trying to make me feel better?”

“Why would I say that to make you feel better?” Geonhak asks. He’s wary, too aware of Hwanwoong’s sour moods and defensiveness. Hwanwoong shrugs, the movement jerky, but he still doesn’t let go of Geonhak’s hand.

“I don’t know,” Hwanwoong admits.

“So I probably meant it, then.”

Hwanwoong looks up at him, eyes narrowed. But his expression isn’t angry, it’s not the pissed-off, self-righteous, “I’m not short you fuckers” expression that Geonhak is used to seeing. It’s a little softer around the edges, like maybe he’s hopeful. Geonhak’s heart flutters in his chest, overexcited and skipping beats.

“You want me to fuck you?”

Geonhak clears his throat and looks away. In the warped reflection of the elevator doors he can see how the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks are bright red.

“Hak.”

The demanding tone in Hwanwoong’s voice makes Geonhak shiver, so he sighs to try and hide it.

“Yeah,” he says. “Sometimes I—yeah.”

“Oh,” Hwanwoong says. He leans forward and presses the button for the lobby, and when the elevator starts to move Geonhak’s stomach moves with it, rising up to his throat.

“Oh?”

“Cool,” Hwanwoong says. He glances at Geonahk through his lashes, just a peek, and when he smiles it’s soft. Honest. “I’d like to do that sometime.”

But the elevator doors open and Hwanwoong doesn’t specify when, doesn’t specify if he literally means it, means it in a way that’s physical and not just fantasy. Hwanwoong uploads his cover video on Tiktok and Twitter and everyone raves about how the song is perfect for him, how he “owns” it. Hwanwoong scrolls through the comments with an obsessive fervor, like the only way he’ll accept praise is in this one very specific form and he has to feed on it while he can.

They don’t talk about fucking again, but Geonhak stops grabbing mugs for him in the morning.

And Geonhak forgets about it. Mostly. Except sometimes Hwanwoong does things, things like squeezing Geonhak’s biceps just a touch too hard, digging his nails into the skin and then cooing over the crescent indents. Things like sitting on Geonhak’s back while he does push ups and groping the globes of his ass. Things like leaning behind Geonhak while he’s eating, pinning him to the table and breathing against his ear while he grabs a notepad or stray chopstick or whatever happens to be lying around.

It drives Geonhak crazy because for the life of him he can’t remember if Hwanwoong has always been like this or if he’s riling Geonhak up on purpose. He almost asks Youngjo after Hwanwoong bends down right in front of him to pick up something he dropped, ass up like an invitation. Geonhak almost asks, almost leans in and whispers _this is intentional, right_ , but then Youngjo laughs and playfully smacks Hwanwoong’s ass so Geonhak figures that it is all in his head.

It’s what he gets, he supposes, for crossing the line that he said he wouldn’t cross. This is so much worse than a heated makeout session while tired and horny. This is worse because he’s given voice to it, admitted something that he can’t take back, and now he’ll always wonder if Hwanwoong thinks about it, too. It’s so much worse because he can’t _stop_ thinking about it, can’t stop thinking about how much he wants it, wants Hwanwoong.

It keeps him up at night, hand wrapped around his cock and t-shirt stuffed into his mouth to keep quiet, wishing that he could at least have _something_ filling him up. It’s bad enough jerking off with Youngjo and Seoho right next to him, but fingering himself is absolutely out of the question. There’s an unspoken rule between all of them that no one is allowed to comment on anyone’s masturbation habits, opting to pretend that that heavy breathing and slick sounds of lube are just from someone having an intense dream, but still, fingering goes a step too far. (The reality is that if someone played a voice recording of everyone jerking off Geonhak could probably pinpoint who was who in under five seconds, and Jesus what does that say about him?)

He’s almost forgotten about it (well, stopped heatedly jerking off to the thought about it) when Hwanwoong grips his shoulders while he’s playing a game with Seoho and leans in to whisper into his ear.

“If you wanna fuck, meet me in practice room A in twenty minutes.”

Geonhak’s ears immediately get hot, and by the time he processes what Hwanwoong has said the front door is already slamming closed. He stares at the door, halfway over the couch, mouth open in an unformed question. 

“Is Woong dragging you for remedial dance lessons?” Seoho asks, still playing even though Geonhak’s controller is abandoned by his side. Seoho doesn’t seem to mind beating the shit out of Geonhak’s immobile character, which maybe points to some unresolved issue between them. Or maybe it’s just Seoho. Whatever it is, Geonhak doesn’t have the brain capacity to ask.

“Yeah,” he says. His throat is so dry that his voice is a croak. 

“Sucks,” Seoho says. The timer on the game counts down and when it hits zero, Seoho tosses the controller to the side. It bounces off of Geonhak’s thigh. “You suck at this. I beat you by a million points.”

Geonhak doesn’t say that of course he did because Geonhak stopped playing halfway through. He launches himself over the couch and mutters something about a shower, locking himself in the bathroom before Seoho can question why he would need to shower before dancing when he’s just going to get sweaty anyway.

He cleans himself surprisingly quickly, fingers shaking like he’s about to pop his cherry, which is fucking _pathetic_ because this isn’t his first time getting dicked. But it is his first time with Hwanwoong, and as much as he may have slept around during his hiatus from attempting the idol life, it’s still been...what? Three years? Four? Since he’s hooked up, hooked up with the intent to get taken care of and not the other way around. 

He redresses in his old clothes, grey sweats and a white muscle tee, fabric sticking to his damp skin, and runs out of the dorm without putting his shoes on all the way. It occurs to him halfway down the lift that he should have probably grabbed condoms or at least lube, but then he figures that if Hwanwoong is initiating then he’s probably prepared. And if he’s not, Geonhak knows that all of the practice rooms have unscented lotion stowed away (everyone says it’s for their dry skin, but Geonhak hasn’t seen anyone put lotion on their hands while practicing the entire time he’s been at RBW, so he’s pretty positive someone’s fucking aound on the sly).

Practice room A has only one set of lights on; it makes it clear that the room is in use from the outside, but casts the inside in an eerie glow. Geonhak steps in, not knowing what to expect, but certainly not expecting Hwanwoong to actually be dancing. He’s running through the Bicycle choreography again, but this time he’s a little looser with it, a little sexier. Hwanwoong catches his reflection in the mirror and stops, thumb up to his lip in mid “vroom”, and he pauses. Smiles.

“Too excited to dry your hair properly?” Hwanwoong says, and Geonhak automatically runs his fingers through the wet strands. His fingertips come away blue, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he’s got blue dye running down his neck and staining the collar of his shirt. 

“I didn’t want to be late,” Geonhak says. His voice is steady, but he knows that his face and ears are red, can feel the heat burning his skin. Hwanwoong quirks an eyebrow and hums. He turns around and leans against the mirror, crossing his arms over his chest.

“So you should probably know that I sleep with Youngjo sometimes,” he says, blunt. Geonhak blinks, his brain taking a moment to process between Hwanwoong’s words and the chorus of Bicycle picking up in volume.

“Oh…” he says, waiting for the disappointment to hit. It doesn’t. The reality is that he's not surprised, so he shrugs. “Yeah. I kind of figured.”

“And I haven’t gotten tested in….a couple months? I think?”

Geonahk doesn’t ask where Hwanwoong goes to get tested, how he goes to get tested without anyone noticing. “Have you slept with anyone else?”

“No.”

“Has Youngjo?”

Hwanwoong sighs and shrugs again. “I don’t know. Probably not, but you know him. He can’t go five seconds without hugging someone or he’ll die. Who knows what goes on when he meets up with his friends.”

“Okay.”

Hwanwoong’s eyes narrow, like he’s trying to see through Geonhak, scan his mind and see if he’s actually okay. “So if you don’t wanna do this—”

“Does he fuck you?” The question bursts out of him and Hwanwoong raises his eyebrows. 

“Why…. why does that matter?”

“I was just - when you yelled at me you brought up Youngjo too so—”

“He fucks me sometimes.” Hwanwoong shrugs. He looks at his nails, picks at them.  
“But he’s—it’s not like—for him it’s a comfort thing, I guess. He’s really soft.”

Geonhak knows this. He knows this because he and Youngjo used to hook up sometimes, back when they were trainees together, both craving a care and comfort that they weren’t getting from the people around them. Their relationship was all soft sighs and gentle whispers, a type of slow love-making that probably should have impacted Geonhak’s outlook on relationships forever. But it didn’t, because that was just Youngjo. He liked to take care of people, liked the soft and the comfort, craved the contact of gentle caresses and sweet kisses. Youngjo had offered to pick up where they left off when Geonhak joined RBW, but Geonhak had said no, had said there was too much to lose by hooking up with each other. And yet here he was.

“And for you?” Geonhak asks.

“It’s nice sometimes but mostly I’m just getting off.”

“And what we’re about to do?”

He wonders if Hwanwoong knows what he’s asking, if Hwanwoong can tell that he needs some kind of reassurance that this is real. Geonhak trusts Hwanwoong, he does, but he also wouldn’t be surprised if this was just an opportunity to jerk off together, or if Hwanwoong really did want to be lifted and fucked against a wall. Geonhak’s gone almost his entire life bending to the sexual whims of his partners that he can’t fathom someone actually wanting the same thing that he does.

Hwanwoong doesn’t answer. He tilts his head to the side and then smiles, this slow, predatory thing that Geonhak has only seen on video replays. 

“C’mere,” he murmurs, and Geonhak does. He doesn’t even hesitate, feet carrying him across the room before his brain catches up to what he’s doing. He stands in front of Hwanwoong, and even though he’s taller he feels infinitely small, feels like he’s in grade school again and being asked in front of the blackboard. Hwanwoong reaches up and runs his fingers along Geonhak’s jaw. Geonhak forgot to shave, and he’s got a pimple forming right at the juncture between his jaw and ear, but Hwanwoong doesn’t seem to mind. His eyes are dark, hungry. He grips Geonhak’s chin and pulls him down, slotting their lips together. 

Hwanwoong is surprisingly gentle with him, thin lips coaxing Geonhak’s open with a patience that Geonhak didn’t know he possessed. He drags his tongue along Geonhak’s, long, languid kisses like they have all the time in the world, and Geonhak finds himself falling into it. 

He doesn’t expect it when Hwanwoong bites his lip, teeth digging into the flesh hard enough to go beyond a sting, hard enough to throb, hard enough that Geonhak whines and has to forcibly resist the urge to pull away. He expects it even less when Hwanwoong’s free hand grips his cock over his sweatpants, tugging at his half hard dick at a ruthless pace despite the fabric.

“Did you play with yourself in the shower?” Hwanwoong asks, releasing Geonhak’s lip and instead nipping along his jaw. “You’re already so hard.”

“Wanted to—ah, fuck—be ready.”

Hwanwoong hums. He squeezes Geonhak’s dick, eyes sharp with a focus that’s unnerving, and Geonhak feels all of the breath rush out of him. He grips Hwanwoong’s shoulders and bites back a moan. It hurts, yes, but there’s a tingle of pleasure burning along the base of Geonhak’s spine that he doesn’t want to lose.

“Oh, Geonhakkie,” Hwanwoong sighs. “I want to make you cry.”

Geonhak whimpers. He can’t help it. He feels suddenly overwhelmed, hot and cold at the same time. There’s a nagging fear in the back of his mind, but stronger than that is this itch beneath his skin that he doesn’t think he can even name. He’s never gotten to have this, has never had anyone speak to him the way Hwanwoong is, and he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. 

Hwanwoong releases him and Geonhak whines at the loss of contact. Hwanwoong coos as he presses down on Geonhak’s shoulders. He doesn’t use that much force, but Geonhak’s knees immediately buckle, as if his body knows exactly what Hwanwoong wants and will bend to his will at the slightest touch. The thought should be terrifying; he’s not used to his body giving into things so easily, but he feels surprisingly calm. It feels….good—really good—to give in.

“I didn’t even have to ask you to get on your knees for me,” Hwanwoong murmurs. He pulls his joggers down just enough to expose his cock, still mostly soft. “Why can’t you be like this all the time, hm?”

Geonhak’s mouth fills with spit as he watches Hwanwoong loosely fist himself, dancing small fingers around the head of his dick. It's not like he hasn’t seen Hwanwoong’s dick. He has. He’s seen everyone’s dick, actually. But this is different, because he’s allowed to stare. He’s allowed to watch as Hwanwoong’s cock slowly starts to fatten, growing to a size that Geonhak is sure some guys would be envious of. 

“Open your mouth, Geonhak,” Hwanwoong says, and Geonhak’s jaw drops before he even finishes the demand. Hwanwoong laughs, this beautiful derisive thing, and Geonhak feels a heat flush all the way down the center of his chest.

“You want this so badly, don’t you?” Hwanwoong says, laughter coloring his words. He traces the tip of his cock along Geonhak’s bottom lip. It gets caught over dry skin, dragging along his mouth and cheek, and the spit wells in Geonhak’s mouth again. He tries to open his mouth wider, tries to whine, but Hwanwoong keeps teasing him, starting to dip inside of his mouth and then pulling back so that he can tap his cock against Geonhak’s cheek. 

“Poor baby,” Hwanwoong murmurs. “So desperate.”

And then he slides in all at once, thick and hot and so much that Geonhak chokes. Geonhak coughs and gags, eyes watering and nose running. Hwanwoong pulls out just enough for Geonhak to take a shaky breath before he’s thrusting back in, and Geonhak gags again. It’s not that Geonhak is particularly sensitive, it’s just that it’s been awhile since he’s given head and Hwanwoong isn’t exactly small. Hwanwoong tuts, pulls out and shallowly thrusts into Geonhak’s mouth, just rubbing the head of his dick over Geonhak’s tongue.

“Guess I can’t fuck your mouth, Hakkie,” Hwanwoong says, voice edged with disappointment, and the tears that suddenly spring in Geonhak’s eyes have nothing to do with the sudden thrust that follows the statement. He tries, tries to open up his throat, tries to be _good_ , but when Hwanwoong presses against his soft palate Geonhak can’t help the way his throat constricts. Hwanwoong tuts and pulls out completely, heedless of the drool that follows, spilling down Geonhak’s chin. Geonhak whines and reaches for him, but Hwanwoong steps back. 

“I can,” Geonhak rasps, and shit, if he already sounds this fucked he’s going to get absolutely reamed during his next vocal lesson. “I can do it.”

“Can you?” Hwanwoong leans back against the mirror, hands on his hips, and like this he looks ten feet tall. He looks massive, imposing in a way that makes Geonhak tremble. He nods his head vigorously, crawling forward so that he’s directly in front of Hwanwoong again. He drops his mouth open but Hwanwoong shakes his head.

“Get me off,” Hwanwoong says. His tone is bored but there’s a fire in his eyes, and Geonhak has never been one to back down from a challenge. He grips the base of Hwanwoong’s dick and drags the flat of his tongue along the head. He looks up at Hwanwoong through his lashes, trying to gauge his expressions as he swirls his tongue, then wraps his lips around the head and sucks. Hwanwoong’s hips jerk slightly but his expression doesn’t change, and Geonhak squeezes his eyes shut as he slides down even further. It’s wet and messy, drool down his chin and pooling on his fist. It gets between his fingers as he works his hand and mouth in tandem, picking up speed to the point where he starts to get light headed. His jaw aches and his nose runs and he knows that Hwanwoong is enjoying it somewhat because there’s a growing bitterness in his mouth, but Hwanwoong isn’t saying anything, isn’t even making noise and Geonhak wants to know that he’s doing well, _needs_ to know that he’s doing well. 

“That’s enough,” Hwanwoong says suddenly. He fists Geonhak’s hair and tugs, keeping him from sinking down again, and Geonhak whines when Hwanwoong’s cock falls from his mouth. He feels startlingly empty, wild and desperate, and he reaches for Hwanwoong’s hips, gripping hard and tugging to get Hwanwoong back where he wants him.

Geonhak registers the sound of the slap before he registers the sting of pain across his cheek. The heat and slight twinge of pain builds slowly, like a burn across his skin, and he sits back on his heels as his brain tries to process beyond the sudden white hot pleasure he feels in his gut. He presses his hands against his crotch as if he can tamp it down, but all that manages to do is spike his arousal even more until it’s all he can focus on. He can’t think beyond how turned on he is, can’t get his mouth to work, can hardly take in the way Hwanwoong is looking at him with wide, worried eyes.

“Oh my god,” Hwanwoong says. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

Geonhak shakes his head. He can’t find the words to explain how much he liked it, can’t do much of anything except grind against his hands with a low whine and hope that Hwanwoong knows that it’s okay. Hwanwoong doesn’t say anything for what feels like forever, just watches as Geonhak ruts against his palms, and Geonhak would be embarrassed except everything feels so good and he just wants to _come_.

“Oh wow,” Hwanwoong says, and he sounds so sweet, so reverent. Hwanwoong reaches for him, running his thumb along the flaming skin on Geonhak’s cheek. “You are—you’re something else.”

Geonhak presses his cheek into Hwanwoong’s fingers, asking for something that he can’t name, and Hwanwoong taps the spot. 

“Did you prep yourself before you came down?” Hwanwoong murmurs, pressing against Geonhak’s cheek hard enough that the soft flesh scrapes against his teeth. Geonhak nods, but Hwanwoong taps his cheek again, not hard enough to hurt but hard enough that Geonhak can feel it. “Words.”

“Yeah,” Geonhak says. His tongue is thick, sluggish, sticking to the roof of his mouth. 

“I want you to stand up and put your hands against the mirror,” Hwanwoong says, dragging his thumb along Geonhak’s bottom lip. “Can you do that?”

“Yeah.”

Geonhak’s legs are wobbly and one foot is asleep, but he still manages to get up and press his hands against the mirror. His entire body feels shaky, like there’s a deep tremble beneath his skin that he has no control over. He glances up, catching his own wild expression, before he notices the smudges of other handprints on the mirror. He wonders, vaguely, who else has gotten fucked in this exact same position, wonders if Hwanwoong has ever made anyone else do this.

He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against the cool glass, unable to look at himself. He feels Hwanwoong’s small hands along his waist, fingers rough from winter dryness, and he yelps when Hwanwoong suddenly tugs his sweatpants down over the swell of his ass. Hwanwoong doesn’t touch him, just leaves him with his ass out, and Geonhak feels a flush of embarrassment tingling the tops of his ears.

“You’ve got a cute butt, you know?” Hwanwoong muses, suddenly grabbing both cheeks in his small hands. He squeezes hard, nails digging into skin, and Geonhak’s cock jumps, still trapped in his sweatpants. “I never noticed before.”

He keeps squeezing, as if he wants to see just how far he can go, and Geonhak presses back into the touch. He feels little pinpricks of pain along his skin, but more than that he feels a buzzing at the base of his skull and a heat that threatens to consume him from the inside out. He’s gasping, breathing labored and ragged in his ears, but before he can beg Hwanwoong to let up or press a little more or do _anything_ to help release the sudden tightness in Geonhak’s chest, Hwanwoong lets him go and rubs a finger in between his cheeks. Geonhak groans, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest, and whacks his forehead against the mirror.

“So cute,” Hwanwoong says. His voice sounds far away, but his hands are still on Geonhak’s ass, spreading his cheeks wide. Geonhak’s whole body gets hot and his legs shake. He’s never felt so exposed, never been laid out on display like this. He rocks his hips and he hears Hwanwoong laugh before he feels warm wet over his rim.

The sound that comes out of Geonhak’s mouth is a sound he didn’t even know he was capable of making. 

“Oh my god,” he manages to choke out, and Hwanwoong laughs. Geonhak can feel his lips move against him, can feel the hot puff of air, can feel the slick of his spit and it’s so, so much.

“You taste like soap,” Hwanwoong says before he drags his tongue from Geonhak’s balls back over his hole. “Did you even rinse?”

Geonhak can’t answer though, because Hwanwoong slides his tongue inside of him, warm and wet and it’s not even that deep but it doesn’t matter because Hwanwoong doesn’t stop, doesn’t stop thrusting into him and licking him and Geonhak can’t focus on anything else. He presses against Hwanwoong’s mouth, uncaring of how desperate he seems. He _is_ desperate, and when Hwanwoong shoves a slicked up finger inside of him with no warning, he feels like he may actually burst. 

“You know,” Hwanwoong murmurs, lips pressed against Geonhak’s ass. “Me and Youngjo fucked while you were napping in the room once.”

Geonhak groans. His cock is already leaking, beads of precum staining a dark spot on his sweatpants. He’s ashamed at how easily he can imagine it, how the image of Hwanwoong bouncing on Youngjo’s dick on the bed across from him flashes across his eyes like a movie. He’s ashamed that he knows exactly how Youngjo would look, because he can still remember the blissed out look that overwhelmed Youngjo’s features when he came.

“Youngjo said you guys used to fuck around,” Hwanwoong continues. He presses another finger inside, this one a slightly tighter fit, but still so smooth, so good. “Said that you’d get so stressed and he had to fuck it out of you.”

Geonhak knows that isn’t what Youngjo said because Youngjo and Geonhak slept together for the comfort as much as the stress reduction, but it doesn’t matter because the dirty talk is doing what it needs to do. His skin is tight and he presses his hands even harder against the mirror, trying to ground himself. 

“He said that you looked so beautiful when you fucked. Like an angel.” 

Hwanwoong’s fingers are too short to reach Geonhak’s prostate, but it doesn’t even matter. Nothing matters except the memory of Youngjo fucking him, hand on Geonhak’s chest as his hips rolled into him at a lazy pace. Nothing matters except the way Hwanwoong drags his mouth over Geonhak’s cheeks, occasionally pressing a wet kiss to his rim or licking in between his fingers as he talks about Youngjo fucking him.

“I think he has a crush on you,” Hwanwoong muses.

“He has a crush on everyone,” Geonhak manages to gasp out right as Hwanwoong thrusts in a third finger. This one stings slightly, but the sharp pain quickly morphs into something molten. Hwanwoong hums, wiggling his fingers.

“Maybe.” He pulls his fingers out and then thrusts them back in, hard. “But I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Laid on some shitty bunk bed. Hair a mess. Getting fucked until you cried.”

Hwanwoong finger fucks him at a brutal pace, and Geonhak cries out. It’s far too loud, echoing off of the walls, but Hwanwoong doesn’t tell him to be quiet. If anything, he tries to go even harder, hard enough that it starts to ache.

“Wanted to wake you up,” Hwanwoong grunts, voice strained. “Wanted to pull you into bed with us and watch you sink down on Youngjo’s cock. Wanted to watch you beg for him like you used to. And then I wanted to gag you on my dick.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Geonhak shouts, tossing his head back. He’d never begged for Youngjo—that wasn’t the kind of relationship they had—but he’s ready to beg for Hwanwoong. He’s ready to do anything if it means Hwanwoong will make him come. “Hwanwoong, _please_.”

“You’re so. Fucking. Cute.” Hwanwoong says, punctuating every word with a jab of his fingers before he pulls them out completely. Geonhak’s hips follow, his hole clenching and unclenching spasmodically, out of his control. He feels wild, out of his mind with desire, and when he tries to beg for Hwanwoong to fuck him again his words are a garbled mess.

The sting of teeth digging into the fleshy part of his ass makes him moan, this drawn out, breathy thing that sounds like it comes straight from a porn video. Hwanwoong keeps biting, sinking his teeth deeper and deeper until the sting turns into an ache turns into a throb turns into a pulsing epicentre of pain. Geonhak gasps, tears springing into his eyes. His cock is so hard that every brush against the fabric of his sweatpants makes him feel like he’s going to die, and he’s shaking so hard that he’s afraid he’s going to collapse. 

“Hwanwoong,” he says, voice broken on a sob, and Hwanwoong just bites harder. It feels like he’s going to rip Geonhak apart, tear him limb from limb, and the idea of that, of having absolutely no control over his own demise, makes him go boneless. His knees buckle and he collapses onto the floor, hands squeaking as they slide down the mirror and knees smarting when they hit the ground. Hwanwoong releases him, then, and the cool of the air over the burning throb of where he'd been bitten almost hurts worse than the bite itself. Geonhak jams his face into the crook of his arm, trying to swallow down the sobs bubbling up in his throat. He aches and he _wants_ and he no longer has words to even express how he's feeling.

Hwanwoong is murmuring something, voice low and unintelligible under the pumping bass coming from the speakers. He runs his hands all over Geonhak's body, over his thighs and gentle around his ass and soothing along his low back. Occasionally there is the soft press of lips against the sensitive skin of Geonhak's back, right at the dip at the base of his spine.

"You know..." Hwanwoong says, fingers drumming along Geonhak's spine, "sometimes I want to just....when you guys are doing stupid shit, you're so cute and I want to rip you apart. All of you. Just to see if I can."

Hwanwoong's voice doesn't tremble, but Geonhak recognizes the vulnerable confession for what it is. He's often looked at the other members and wondered what it would be like with them, has often had Dongju on his lap or Seoho just pissing him the fuck off or has watched Keonhee stuff his mouth with absolute euphoria, and wondered what would happen if he just...kissed them. Fucked them. And he'd felt guilty afterwards, so guilty for even entertaining the thought. So he gets it, gets the strange mix of desire and shame that must plague Hwanwoong on a daily basis.

"Do it," Geonhak says, words thick on his tongue.

Hwanwoong's fingers pause their mindless tapping. "You want that?" he murmurs, breath hot against the base of Geonhak's spine, and Geonhak's whole body shakes with anticipation. "Want me to rip you apart?"

"Yes," Geonhak whines. "Please."

Hwanwoong groans and straightens up, and the sudden loss of contact makes Geonhak whine even louder. Hwanwoong shushes him, rubbing fingers up and down his sides.

"Face the door, baby," Hwanwoong says. "Don't want you to hit your pretty head on the mirror."

It takes so much effort for Geonhak to figure out how his limbs work, but he manages to push himself up onto his hands and knees and adjust his position so that he's facing the door. He rests his cheek on his arm, facing the mirror, and he can see his own wrecked image. His hair is a mess, long bangs falling against his red cheeks. His eyes are wet and his mouth is bitten raw and there's a palpable tremble in his limbs. He shifts his gaze down the line of his body just in time to see Hwanwoong rolling on a condom, and the spit wells in his mouth so fast that it drips out of the corner of his mouth. Aside from the flush high on his cheekbones and the fact that he's ridiculously hard, Hwanwoong looks completely unfazed by what they're doing, looks completely in control.

Geonhak must make some sort of sound because Hwanwoong's eyes flick to his in the mirror, and his lips curve in the slightest smile. He shuffles forward and taps his dick between Geonhak's cheeks, grin widening when Geonhak automatically rolls his hips back.

"You want it?" Hwanwoong says, teasing, and Geonhak wiggles his butt in response. He can't get his mouth to work, can't do anything except rock against Hwanwoong and hope that he gives him what he wants. "God, Geonhak. You drive me crazy."

If he was more with it, Geonhak would say that Hwanwoong drives him crazy, too. He'd say that he's wanted this since he first watched Hwanwoong crawling around on the floor while dancing. He'd say that he's always admired him, maybe even loves him, but he can't. He can't because Hwanwoong slides into him, unexpected and all at once, and it feels like Geonhak is choking, filled so much that he can't even breathe. Hwanwoong groans, fingers gripping his ass, hips rocking without ever fully pulling out.

"Can't believe no one wants to fuck this tight ass," Hwanwoong says. "You deserve it, Geonhakkie."

Geonhak doesn't know why that makes him cry, but it does, tears suddenly spilling down his cheeks. Hwanwoong must see, or at least hear him, because he groans, long and low, and starts a ruthless pace that fucks the sobs out of Geonhak's chest. And Geonhak can't do anything except take it, can't even close his eyes against the sight of himself getting fucked thoroughly in the mirror.

They're too loud; Geonhak can't even hear the music that's playing anymore (though the guitar riff sounds familiar). Geonhak's cries echo loud in his ears, echo even louder in the empty room, and he can still hear Hwanwoong's own grunts over the sound of their skin slapping together. They're too loud but Geonhak can't do anything to stop the noises spilling from his mouth. Everything hurts in the best way possible, the sting of irritated skin and his knees rubbing raw against the floor and the deep ache in his gut. His mind is blissfully blank, nothing but white noise and his own snot covered reflection and a hazy pleasure that is building so fast that it should be terrifying.

He comes with a broken sob, white hot pleasure so overwhelming that for a moment Geonhak can't breathe. His knees slide open and his hips burn at the stretch. His entire body shakes and still the pleasure comes, wave after wave of it. Geonhak's voice feels scratchy in his throat and he can't stop crying and he can't even think and Hwanwoong doesn't stop; he's still gripping his hips, holding on so tightly that it hurts, and fucking into him like a man possessed. He's saying something, a string of words that Geonhak can't even comprehend, some blend of _good_ and _god_ and _tight_ and _pretty_.

When Hwanwoong pulls out it's so sudden that Geonhak shouts. He hears the wet, plasticky sound of the condom being ripped off and tossed somewhere, hears the frantic slapping of Hwanwoong getting himself off, hears Hwanwoong’s soft grunts and low moans. When he feels warm wetness hit his back, time seems to slow. The frantic energy fades, and Geonhak collapses fully onto the floor, mind slowly piecing itself back together as he calms down.

The first thing that Geonhak registers is Yonghoon’s voice over the speakers, and he groans as he rolls onto his back, flinging his arm over his eyes. Even the dim lighting is too much. Everything is too much when his body feels like limp spaghetti and his head is fuzzy like he’s getting over a contact high. 

“What?” Hwanwoong asks, his voice startlingly close. Geonahk glances over and realizes that Hwanwoong is lying next to him, one arm pressed against the mirror, chest heaving like he’s run a marathon. 

“The music,” Geonhak says. His voice is shot and his mouth is dry, making his voice sound even deeper than it usually is. Hwanwoong is quiet for a moment, and then he snorts. His laughter is tired, no sound, just his shoulders shaking.

“Sorry,” he says. “Guess that’s pretty awkward.”

“I can’t believe we fucked to the least sexy song they have,” Geonhak mutters, letting his eyes slip closed again. He knows the next time he runs into anyone from Onewe, all he’s going to think about is laying on the floor with Hwanwoong’s cum on his back and his own cum sticking to the inside of his sweatpants. It’s disgusting, but he can’t be bothered to even attempt to clean himself up. 

“To be fair, it’s not the song we started fucking to,” Hwanwoong points out, and Geonhak grunts in agreement. They lay there until the song finishes, and Geonhak laughs when a song from Youngjo’s Soundcloud starts playing next.

“You fuckin simp,” he says, and Hwanwoong half-heartedly smacks his stomach.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Hwanwoong’s hand lingers on his stomach. Geonhak inadvertently tightens his abs as Hwanwoong absently drums his fingers along, then realizes what he’s doing and relaxes. He knows that Hwanwoong is thinking, knows without even looking that Hwanwoong’s lips are tight, tucked against his teeth as he goes through whatever scenarios are plaguing his thoughts. 

“How was it?” Hwanwoong finally asks. “How do you feel?”

Geonhak knows that what Hwanwoong really means is “was it too much,” but he also knows that if he automatically says that this was the best fuck of his life, Hwanwoong won’t believe him. He hums and catalogues the state of his body. His knees and elbows burn, are probably rubbed raw from the waxed floor, and his ass throbs from where Hwanwoong bit him. His cheek doesn’t sting anymore (which he misses, if he’s honest), and his voice is shot now but he knows that with tea and rest it will be fine in the morning. Mostly he feels pleasantly exhausted, the kind of exhaustion that comes from a great workout, and the tension that had accumulated in his shoulders from comeback preparations has lessened. He feels… light. Lighter than he has in a long time.

“My ass hurts,” is what he says, and Hwanwoong laughs, loud “ha has” that shake his entire body. Hwanwoong smacks at his stomach, but then lets his hand rest there, palm flat right above Geonhak’s belly button.

“I would say I’m sorry,” Hwanwoong says, “but I’m not.”

“Good,” Geonhak says. “I don’t want you to be.”

They fall silent again, listening to Youngjo’s voice. Hwanwoong breathes in like he’s about to say something, then pauses and exhales instead. Geonhak snorts and places his own hand on top of Hwanwoong’s.

“Just ask,” Geonhak says. “I know you want to.”

Hwanwoong’s chuckle is quiet and delicate. “Why did you stop sleeping with him?” he asks, voice so quiet that Geonhak almost misses the question. “I mean, since you’ve been with us, obviously. Not when you ran away to be a gym rat.”

“It seemed too dangerous,” Geonahk admits. “He offered but like…” he trails off, thinking of the best way to explain his relationship with Youngjo. “When we fucked around, we knew that we weren’t getting anywhere in the company. Like, it was obvious that it wasn’t going to work out. So if we got caught it was like...what’s the worst that could happen, you know? And it was so...fucked. Being there. It was nice to have a moment with each other.”

Hwanwoong’s fingers shift on his stomach, like he’s trying to pet Geonhak, scratching at his belly like he would a dog. 

“But when I got in with you guys—there’s so much more to lose. If we’re caught.” He leaves it at that, because the same thing is true for him and Hwanwoong. It’s true for Hwanwoong and Youngjo fucking around. If anyone catches them, if anyone spills to the press, then that’s it. Everything that they’ve built will be destroyed in an instant. It hits him all at once, how much he could lose just because he wanted to get fucked. 

Hwanwoong must sense a shift in his mood because he sits up and smacks at Geonhak’s chest.

“Stop it,” he says. “I know what you’re thinking and you’re going to make yourself crazy if you keep it up. So we fucked. Whatever. Who cares? There’s no paparazzi in here. And if staff walked by and heard something, they’re not going to say anything because they need us if they want to keep their jobs.”

“You sound like you’ve been walked in on by staff before,” Geonhak says, and Hwanwoong bites his lip and shrugs. Geonhak sits up suddenly, wincing at the sharp pain that shoots up his spine. “You’re kidding.”

“We didn’t get caught,” Hwanwoong snaps. “But the makeup noonas aren’t idiots.”

“But what if—” 

Hwanwoong covers Geonhak’s mouth with his hand and it tastes like sweat and latex and cum. His eyebrows are slanted down, face serious like when he’s about to yell at them all for not focusing hard enough.

“I don’t regret what we did,” Hwanwoong says. “It felt good. We needed it. And I don’t think that’s a bad thing, you know?”

Geonhak nods slowly and Hwanwoong sighs. He moves his hand so he cups Geonhak’s cheeks instead.

“Nothing bad has happened,” he says, voice a little softer, a little kinder. “We got off together and the world didn’t end so I think we’re allowed to just...be okay with that.” Hwanwoong looks at Geonhak, and his expression is so soft that he looks younger. He looks eighteen when he’s unsure of himself, eyes wide and mouth kiss-red. Geonhak doesn’t think before he leans in, slotting their lips together. Hwanwoong makes a startled sound, but his lips part when Geonhak licks along the seam, and his tongue tentatively meets Geonhak’s. It’s soft and sweet and it makes Geonhak feel a little dizzy.

“I don’t regret it either,” Geonhak whispers when they part. They’re still close enough that Geonhak feels it when Hwanwoong smiles.

“Good,” he says, pecking Geonhak’s lips. “Then we should do it again sometime.”

There’s a bang down the hall that makes them both jump, scrambling to pull up their pants and clean up all traces of what they got up to. Geonhak laughs when he realizes that Hwanwoong had flung the condom against the mirror, laughs so hard that he ends up on his hands and knees, unable to catch his breath. Hwanwoong complains about how useless he is as he tries to wipe the mess off of the mirror with the hem of his shirt, but when Geonhak looks at him Hwanwoong is smiling. Nobody walks into the room, and when they finally leave the building, the only remnants of their rendezvous is Geonhak’s handprints among the other smudges on the mirror.

Later that night Geonhak lays in bed and flicks through his phone, eyes occasionally drifting to Youngjo on the bed next to him. He thinks about Hwanwoong, thinks about Hwanwoong and Youngjo, thinks about the bite on his ass that’s still throbbing, and he opens a new message thread.

**geonhak:** maybe not in the practice room next time?

 **hwanwoong:** lol

 **hwanwoong:** okay

Geonhak tosses his phone under his pillow and rolls onto his side so he can see Youngjo better. Youngjo must have a sixth sense, because sets his phone down as well and meets Geonhak’s gaze.

“What’s up?” he asks, and Geonhak second-guesses himself for all of two second before he decides _fuck it_.

“Hyung, remember back when we were trainees?”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic would not be possible without my best beta & hype person @dopaminekeeper so send them lots of love. Also, much thanks to anyone who participated in my fic polls on [twt](https://twitter.com/malamyszk)


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